


Brave at Heart

by Ranowa



Series: Harry Potter AU [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Boggarts, FMA characters, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Panic Attacks, Parental Maes Hughes, Parental Roy Mustang, you don't have to know HP for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 03:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14511963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranowa/pseuds/Ranowa
Summary: While snooping in Professor Mustang’s office, second-year Ed runs into a boggart.There’s just one problem: Ed’s never heard of boggarts.





	Brave at Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Gift!fic for YAJJ!!! <3
> 
> Hi! Welcome to my ridiculous, nobody-asked-for-this AU of the FMAs in Harry Potter verse! :D Which will get a better name as soon as it's not 3AM, and I can think straight :)
> 
> First off: this is actually part of a /much/ bigger AU verse that I’m slowly working on, looking at how the Elrics got themselves into this situation, what happens after this, and how Roy and Hughes got their brotp started in this world. As of the time of this posting, nothing else here is published yet. Things are vaguely alluded to in this fic, but would be explained in much greater detail in the other fics if/when I ever get my act together (not anytime soon... trust me). Anything you see and wanna ask me about, go ahead!
> 
> However, for THIS fic, all I think I should mention is that Edward was a hat-stall, between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor- he ended up in Ravenclaw :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“Brother, _please_ , stop!”

“Aw, come on, Al.” Ed fiddled with the lock again, trying to figure out the spell Mustang had on it yet again with a frustrated glare. “He just told us not to snoop. I’m not snooping. I’m... _looking.”_

“Snooping _is_ looking!” Al cried exasperatedly, “That’s _exactly_ what it is!”, but Ed was too focused on sno- looking to care.

“But what harm can come of it?” Cursing, Ed tossed the irksome, impossible lock out of grip, watching it clunk heavily against the desk drawer before turning his attentions elsewhere in the office. There was the edge of a plaque or something sticking out from under a mess of papers; he could just catch the words _Order of,_ but his attention was instantly distracted to other things, things cooler than some stuffy old reward. That closet over there looked interesting... “I mean, he’s just a teacher. No way would they let him keep anything dangerous or whatever in his office.”

“That’s not the point! You’re invading his privacy and- oh my god, Brother, _noooo...”_ Al tugged him hard, arms suddenly wrapping around him from behind when he reached for a photo album. “Ed, quit it! That’s private! Don’t go through it! Professor Mustang said-“

“Professor Mustang said, Professor Mustang said.” Laughing, Ed pulled free to hold the photo album aloft, grabbing at it like it was a prize- because it _was._ He could already just picture all the stupid shit the bastard professor had done when he was a kid, stupid shit immortalized forever right here in his hands. God, the blackmail material was _endless._ “Al, Mustang says stuff all the time. There’s never any good reason to listen to him.”

“He’s a _professor!_ He’s supposed to take care of us! He’s- Ed, there’s a million good reasons to him, _please-”_

“A million good reasons,” he scoffed again. A million good reasons. Right. Like the fact that he was a bastard, and smug, and liked to hog all the fun things for himself, and just liked hiding things... Glaring in annoyance- at Mustang, of course, not at Al, never at Al- Ed tucked the photo album under his arm for later and dropped to sit cross-legged before another cabinet, trying to force his way past yet another lock. Damn it, why was everything in here _locked? “Alohomora!”_ he snapped at it, whacking it with his wand.

The lock thumped dully against the wood. 

_“...Al-o-ho-mo-ra!”_ Ed hissed again, annoyance and irritation weighing heavy on every syllable. 

Nothing. In fact, so much _nothing,_ he was pretty sure the lock was trying to mock him with it.

Behind him, Al groaned.

“Brother, that is one of the first spells Professor Hughes taught us here; did you _really_ thing Professor Mustang would use locks that any first-year could open?”

Ed glared at the stubborn lock, giving it another weak nudge with his fist. No. No, he hadn’t, really. But that was the only unlocking spell he knew- so far, anyway- and as far as he could tell, most people at Hogwarts didn’t tend to use any protection beyond what it could break. He should’ve known Mustang would be stupidly paranoid enough to thwart him here. “...well, it was worth a try,” he grumbled sullenly, still frowning at the lock.

Al groaned again, sounding rather disappointed and put out with the whole affair, but not necessarily surprised. “Whatever.” There was some rustling, and Ed turned around just in time to watch his brother pick up his bookbag from the ground, slinging it over one shoulder and dusting off his robes. “I’m going to charms. Please, _please,_ for the love of all that is holy, don’t make me come back here and find you exploded into tiny bits and pieces just because you snooped into some hidden booby trap in here.” 

“Aw, come on, Al, that won’t-“

“Yes. It very easily could happen. It is, in fact, the most likely scenario, because that is just what _happens_ when you do things, Brother.” Al glared down at him in his most dangerous stare, hands on his hips and eyes flashing with warning. “Things explode, and you get hurt, and it all happens, somehow, because of _you._ Because you provoke explosions and calamity with your very existence.”

Ed winced.

That... 

That...

Wasn’t fair.

It was true. Somehow.

But it wasn’t fair. 

“...I, um... well...”

_“Promise_ me, Brother.”

This time, it was Ed’s turn to groan.

“I... promise.” Although, just how exactly he was supposed to _stick_ to that promise, when none of the disasters that always seemed to happen whenever he was in the room were ever his fault, he had _no fucking idea,_ but, for Al’s sake, at least, he would try. He was just pretty sure he was doomed to fail. But still. He would try. 

“Great!” Al exclaimed, and just like that, his cheerful and wonderful brother was back, and the dangerous and staring one was gone. “Then I’ll see you tonight at dinner. And _leave Professor Mustang’s stuff alone!”_

Ed groaned again, waving goodbye as Al headed out the door. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, more to himself then Al.

Now that he found himself alone, Ed turned back around to face Mustang’s office again, frowning as he searched through it for any sign of something both interesting and unlocked for him to get into. The photo album, surely promising much of interest to dig through later, he set carefully aside. That was for later. Right now, he had Mustang’s office all to his own, and he wasn’t about to waste that sitting on the floor looking at pictures. 

Unfortunately, it looked like just about everything else cool in here was locked up tight.

Ed stood there for several moments, frowning at it all in distaste. Had Mustang really locked _everything_ of interest in here? Then what was even the point of telling him and Al not to go snooping? He moved forward to give an experimental poke at another one of the padlocks, watching it sway back and forth in an almost taunting manner. This one, he was sure, would react to _Alohomora_ just as unhelpfully as all the rest. Ed gave it another nudge, this one mostly just because he was annoyed with it now, and slouched away to dump himself in Mustang’s chair.

He froze. 

The cabinet continued to sit there, perfectly silent and unmoving. It looked just as inanimate and still as it was supposed to.

_But... didn’t it just..._

Holding his breath, Ed once again reached forward, very carefully, to give the thing one single finger of an experimental poke.

And this time, threw himself back away with a startled yelp. 

No doubt about it: the cabinet had rattled. Again. _At him._

Ed gulped.

The large cabinet gave another shake, looking now almost as if- as if something was inside. He stumbled back another more shocked than fearful step to stare at it, his blood suddenly gone cold and his mind consumed with all those explosions his brother had warned him about. This was it. Al was right. He’d provoked the- the Hidden Creature of Mustang’s Closet and whatever that thing was was now going to come out and eat him, and he was going to die, and it was going to be all his own _fault,_ and-

The cabinet rattled again. 

That was all it did.

Just rattle.

Slowly, Ed lowered his wand, and forced in another shaky breath.

He was suddenly extremely grateful for stupid Mustang’s stupid locks. 

Also very embarrassed, for being so easily startled, but- but no one else had witnessed it, at least. Right? Ed took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of his robes and glaring at the cabinet. No one else had seen him jump, so- so easy enough to pretend it just hadn’t happened. Because everything was just fine, right? 

The thing, whatever it was, couldn’t get out. Right? Otherwise it would’ve heard him and Al moving around a while ago and broken free. He’d already seen Mustang’s locks were at least strong enough to not be ripped off just like that. Besides, if the DADA professor had it- whatever it was- locked up in his office like this, obviously Mustang would’ve made sure it was safe. Students came in here all the time. He wouldn’t have let a potentially deadly creature with the freedom to break out and eat them all. He was a bastard, not stupid. 

No. No. He was overreacting. He was fine. Just fine.

No matter how eerily creepy it was to see that huge, chained up cabinet shaking at him, the door shaking weakly as whatever this thing was thumped against it, trying to get out.

No. No, it was _fine._ He was perfectly fine here. “C’mon, Ed,” he muttered under his breath, forcefully breathing out a shaking gasp of a sigh. “You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you? Or, like- half a Gryffindor, at least! So scared of a locked door?” He swallowed tightly, then drew himself up to his whole, not fucking diminutive height. Just a door, that was all. “You’re probably not even that scary, I bet!” he called, louder this time, raising his voice so he _knew_ he’d be heard by whatever this thing was. He walked forward to give the cabinet another hard rap, knuckles rebounding off the wood, and when he actually felt the thing under his hand he somehow felt much better, good enough to give it another knock. “Yeah, I bet you’re just a cute little leprechaun or something. You’re just a cute little guy, aren’t you, and Big Bad Mustang keeps you locked up in here so he can steal your magic for himself, doesn’t he?”

The cabinet rattled at him again, but this time, Ed forced himself to hold his ground. The creature was firmly locked in there. There wasn’t any danger here- but there _was_ a certain sort of exhilarating, almost terrifying fear about tempting it like this, and pushing himself closer and closer to something that would probably eat him, given the chance. His heart pounding and chills ran down his spine as he raised his fist up for another knock- then, struck with an idea, Ed did his best to swallow the rest of his fear and instead placed his hand up on the door, palm to the wood. 

“See, there’s nothing here to worry about...” he coughed out, again forcing the words past his suddenly thick throat and gritted teeth. _C’mon, Ed, you’re not a coward. You can do this._ “You’re just a cute little leprechaun, aren’t you. Totally safe here.”

For several moments, there was silence.

And then, he felt the creature, whatever it was, mimic him, and place a hand against the wood right where Ed had.

Ed gasped. Fear lanced through him like a fucking lightning bolt, cold waves of terror blasting through him from head to toe. His heart strangled, skipping a beat, and he suddenly found himself utilizing every single ounce of his willpower not to jerk away screaming. 

No- no, it was _fine,_ he told himself again, forced the reassurances out through the panic. What was he freaking out about?! Nothing! Nothing at all! So the creature had a hand. And it was- right there. Right where his was. Nothing wrong with that, right? It still couldn’t get out. And even if it could, Mustang wouldn’t lock up lethal terrors in random cabinets right out in the open. No, _logically,_ it made no sense for this thing to be of any danger to him whatsoever. And he was a _Ravenclaw;_ just as brave as a Gryffindor, dammit, but the hat had put him in Ravenclaw for a reason- he was smart enough not to let himself give into fear at a stupid locked cabinet!

His heart still pounding, pounded so hard it almost felt like it was trying to lunge out of his chest, and he still desperately wanted nothing more than to just yank his hand away and get fuck-far away as possible from that thing.

But, he was a Gryffindor. Sort’ve. Whatever.

He wasn’t a fucking coward, and he wasn’t afraid of _Mustang’s_ random conglomeration of crap. Mustang. Right. Somehow, he could just hear the bastard professor laughing his head off at him if he heard about this. The bastard would laugh, and then he would taunt him, he would say, _awww, were you scared, pipsqueak,_ and then he would open the cabinet and reveal nothing at all scary or frightening whatsoever. And then, he would laugh some more, because he was a _jerk,_ and proclaim something about how he wasn’t even surprised, because short people really had every right to be afraid of cabinets in case they ended up crushed by one.

Ed glared, some of the cold fear trembling down his spine morphing into hot rage, and his hand curled into a fist by his side.

No. _Fuck_ Professor Bastard. He could do this.

And so Ed steeled himself, pushed away all the screaming instincts yelling at him to run away, kept his hand pressed against the strange creature’s, took a deep breath, and said, “Hello?”

Again, there was a long moment of silence. 

And then, Ed heard something that made his heart stop.

In one tiny, weak, and _familiar_ voice, the cabinet shook weakly again, he felt the hand under his move searchingly, and then, the creature spoke.

“...Ed?”

Ed gasped.

That...

That was...

_“...Alphonse?”_

* * *

When Roy heard the scream, he didn’t even stop to think.

He just dropped the stack of essays in his hands, and he took off.

Before he’d even made it three steps, the scream came again, a terrified, high-pitched _screech_ coming from his office, the thing so frightened it was barely recognizable as Edward Elric- but it _was_ Ed. In that moment, he only knew that that terrified noise was coming from Ed, and that he was calling for help.

He had never, in all the two years that he had known him, heard Ed sound anything like that before.

His wand was out of his sleeve before he’d even reached his office, a third scream for help already ringing in his ears. He blasted the door aside so he wouldn’t have to stop, just sprinting on ahead in even rhythm with his panicked, pounding heart, throwing himself forward before the dust had settled and turning to take on whatever the _hell_ had done this to Ed.

He wasn’t prepared, however, for the nightmare waiting for him inside.

The blood hit him first. 

The sheer _amount_ of it, sticky-red and bright and just _everywhere._ He could even smell it, a revolting, familiar, metallic tang weighing on the dusty air like a poison, so thick it had hit him before he’d even actually stepped foot inside. He coughed and reeled, stomach tightening as he stumbled to a stop, shocked disbelief slamming into him like a physical blow. At first that was all he could see, too, the blood, the massive amounts of it, dripping and rancid and so copious surely somebody must have _died-_

And then, he saw the two figures kneeling in the center of all that blood.

It was Ed and Al. 

Ed was sobbing. And Al...

Al was dying.

Al was sprawled on his side in the pool of ever-spreading blood, his hair soaked with it, his face covered in it, whole body splattered with it. God, it was impossible it all could’ve come from him at all, it just wasn’t _right;_ he was so small, but all that blood-

His arm and leg were gone.

His right arm and left leg, just like Ed’s, were _gone._

Hewn off at the shoulder and the thigh and horribly just _missing,_ like some wild beast had just torn them off and ate them. It was horrifying. He stumbled again, almost slipping to his knees on legs that were suddenly numb, consumed with disbelief and gut-churning horror. _How? What? When-?_

Roy choked as he fell forwards, reaching for Al even though he already knew in his heart it was a lost cause. All that blood... Al was _dead_ , there was no chance, there was _nothing_ he could do, but- but he was still breathing, still shaking there on the floor, choking on his own blood, he _had_ to try-

“Hang on, Al,” he gasped, “just hang on-“ He lowered his wand to one of the wounds, trying desperately to at least seal it off, stop the bleeding- but nothing happened. The wound didn’t even try to close; it was like he hadn’t done anything at all. Gasping, he repeated the spell again, with more vehemence, this time- 

But nothing happened.

Horrified and stricken, Roy turned to Ed, wand dropping to the spreading pools of blood with a wet, heartstopping _plop._ The wizard was down on his knees beside his brother, just as covered in blood as him and clutching at Al like his life depended on it, sobbing violently, choked whimpers caught in his throat and tears streaming down his bloodied face. “I’m sorry...” he moaned, in one tiny, anguished cry, “I’m sorry... Al... no, _please...”_

“Ed, what _happened?!”_ he cried, making a futile grab to separate the two, but Ed just threw himself away from him, grabbing Al with such desperate grief and helpless anguish it was nearly heartbreaking. “Ed-“ Maybe if he knew what curse or creature had did this to Al, he could fix it, it wouldn’t be too late- “Ed, please, talk to me- Al-“

“...Brother...” Al whispered. It was a dying croak, if that, his voice so weak it was terrifying. Roy turned frantically back to him, trying to tell him not to talk, that it was going to be okay, they’d fix this- but Al had eyes only for one, and it wasn’t him. “Ed... _why...?”_

Ed sobbed even harder, collapsing and shaking and crying so hard he could barely even breathe. “Al- Al, I’m s-so s-sorry-“

“Ed...” The injured brother turned a little in his arms, reaching out for Ed with the one arm he had, fingers trembling, streaking blood down Ed’s distraught face the moment they touched his skin. “You... c-could’ve saved me... _why,_ Brother... why d-did you... let this h-happen to me...?”

_“I’m sorry!”_ Ed screamed, almost choking on it again, sobbing so hard he could barely even talk. _“I’m- I’m sorry, Al!”_

What? This was Ed’s fault? But _how?_ And Al was actually blaming him for it? Roy started between the two brothers, one bleeding and dying, one sobbing and broken, stricken with horror. But- but Al would never-

...

Al... would never...

Roy stopped.

And then, for the first time since he’d burst in here and found Al on the ground covered in blood, he actually really _looked_ at him.

His arm and leg weren’t just missing, similar to Ed’s- they were _exactly the same._ They’d been ripped off _exactly_ where Ed’s had been- and yes, they _had_ bled too much to be believed. Al was eleven years old, and as small as the age would lead him to expect. The amount of blood here, even for two missing limbs, was far, far more than could be possibly be contained in Al’s little form. At the very least, it was impossible that Al would be conscious and talking. And, what was more, those horrible wounds hadn’t resisted Roy’s attempt to seal up the wounds- the spell had had _zero_ effect entirely. Almost like it wasn’t even...

Like it wasn’t even real.

His heart skipped a beat.

Like it wasn’t real.

Slowly, Roy turned back to Al. And this time, with narrowed eyes, he looked beyond him, and to the cabinet at their backs.

The open, _empty_ cabinet.

The sickened horror beating through his blood vanished, and in it’s place reigned cold, hard anger.

“Ed,” he murmured firmly, and dropped one hand down onto his charge’s shoulder. “Get back.”

Ed wasn’t listening to him. Ed shook his hand off violently and threw himself even closer to Al, sobbing heartbroken apologies that he could no longer bear to listen to.

“Get _behind me,”_ he ordered again, almost growling out in his anger. When this, again, did nothing, Roy reached out to grab his wand again from the pool of blood and, with one smooth motion, both threw Ed back behind him and rose to stand between him and the creature.

_“NO!”_ Ed screamed, tearing at him, desperately fighting to get past his outstretched arm and reach his brother again. He clawed at his arm and threw himself at his back, screaming and sobbing to be let free. _“No, stop! Al! AL!_ Mustang, please, let me go, Al- Al- _AL! PLEASE-_ “

_“Stand back!”_ Again Roy shoved him aside, forcing the child away as hard as he could manage it to stand even more in between them. Ed again attacked him, hitting at him with all his strength and shouting, but Roy refused to let the bruising blows move him even an inch; when Ed still fought him he simply forewent words anymore and grabbed him, pulling Ed tightly against him and hiding his face in his side. No matter how much Ed struggled and hit Roy kept his eyes hidden and his body in between him and the terrible vision of his brother, but he didn’t waste time with words again. There wasn’t room for words here anymore. He had to get this thing under control, and _now._

Ed still clutched to his side, wand still pointed straight at Al, Roy looked right down at the bloody impersonator on the floor and for the first time, met his eyes. His wide, surprised... _uncertain_ eyes. “I’m your opponent now,” he hissed. “Face me.”

The thing hesitated. It looked at him, then at Ed, then back to him. Roy couldn’t but tighten the arm around Ed, forcing him to hide his face and allowing the creature to see no one but him. “Face _me,”_ he snapped again, voice cold as ice, and waited. 

The creature hesitated once more. For what was supposed to be a boy dying in a pool of his own blood, he looked rather too uncertain and confused to play the part any longer. He glanced at Ed again, frowning-

Then, at last, decisively moved his gaze back to Roy.

Al’s bloody, fake face blurred, and the boggart finally changed form. 

The blood evaporated with a steaming hiss, misting up into nothing like it had never existed in the first place, sucked out of Ed’s robes and vanishing off Roy’s hands. The figure grew, morphing larger and larger until it was big enough to be a fully grown adult’s body, face still indistinct, old wounds smoothing away and new ones bursting to life, changing until-

Until Ed’s boggart was gone, and Roy’s lay on the floor before him.

A charred, perfectly still dead, horribly burned, dead body. Unlike Ed, Roy didn’t need his worst fear still alive to remind him it was his fault. Unlike Ed’s, his was completely dead. Burned and disfigured beyond what would’ve been all recognition- but the twisted, scalded skin retreated at the face, emblazoned burns pulling back from the twisted, tortured skin just enough for him to see the agonized face of the one he’d let die.

First, it was Hughes. 

When Hughes’ dead, destroyed face earned no response, the body blurred, shifting, changing. Then, it was Riza.

Then, Al.

Then... Ed. 

Ed. Twisted, tortured, burned, and dead on the floor... and still shaking, sobbing, and fighting against his side.

“Ed,” Roy said quietly, and finally loosened his hand a little. Just enough for the kid to free himself. He gently slid his hand back to rest on his hair, coaxing him to move away enough to see. “Ed, look.” 

It took a few seconds for the terrified boy to lift his face away from his side, still trembling and choking on his tears. But when he finally did, the result was an almost violent cry of shock, and instead of ripping away to kneel again at his brother’s side, like he’d been trying to do this whole time, he just froze in place.

The boggart shifted again, continuing to cycle through Hughes, Riza, Ed, and Al. Ed gasped painfully when his brother’s burned corpse came back into play, but it was gone just as quickly this time, cycling back around to another, and Ed was left, trembling and stunned by his side, completely speechless with shock.

Roy gritted his teeth, keeping the revulsion and anguish inside him at the sight tightly under lock and key, and forced himself to speak.

“It’s not real,” he murmured, somehow working the low monotone our past the growing lump in his throat. “None of it was ever real, Ed. See?” He pointed a little with his wand as the creature shifted back to wear Ed’s face. “No one’s dead. No one’s hurt. Everything’s okay, Ed... I promise.” 

Beside him, Ed barely even moved, still trembling with shock. He felt rather than saw him take a small, tentative step towards the unhappy boggart- then reeled backwards when it became Al again, shifting back miserably to grab onto Roy’s side. “I...” he nearly whimpered, still trembling. “I don’t...”

“None of it is real,” he repeated softly. He left his hand around his shoulders for several moments, trying to drive the point home before he had to let him go, stepping forwards to again stand in between Ed and the boggart, holding his arms out to keep the creature from so much as reaching for the boy again. 

“ _Riddikulus,”_ Roy said coldly, and again pointed his wand down at the boggart.

Hughes’ body, which had just been blurring into Riza’s, jerked violently, twisting on the floor to pop upright. Burns vanished in an instant, ruined face blurring to normal again, and his robes were replaced by the ridiculous miniskirt gag gift the ass had given him years ago. 

It still wasn’t funny to him. Not in the slightest. Roy had never once found that funny. In fact, the only person to genuinely laugh at it had been Hughes himself, one of the rare times the man had witnessed him fighting off his own boggart- but Roy had never found himself capable of even cracking a real smile at it.

But that didn’t matter. Roy had learned how to cease being truly afraid of his boggart a long time ago, and with a lack of genuine fear to feed off of, it didn’t take real laughter to beat it down this time.

“Get back,” he snapped at it, forcing the creature wearing Hughes’ face to stumble away from him. “Back! _Back!”_ He advance a step forward, driving it away with his wand, until it tripped and stumbled back into its cabinet, staring up at him with a look of painfully familiar shock. Gritting his teeth, Roy gave the creature a violent kick to force it even further back into the cabinet before slamming the doors shut. The doors that-

_God..._

The doors that had been locked. And now weren’t, because Ed had physically _ripped them apart_ to get to his brother. The lock itself was still intact, but the cabinet no longer was, wooden splinters scattered and the doors shattered, and the blood staining these wasn’t fake. God, Ed had scratched and pushed his way through these by sheer force of will- and they’d been magically reinforced. 

_He must’ve been terrified..._

Shuddering, Roy clamped a hard hold down on his emotions and kept himself still, instead just raising his wand again. _”Reparo,”_ he murmured, tapping the cabinet. It wouldn’t work forever, but, then, it didn’t need to- it just had to hold long enough for him to get Ed out of here, so he could _properly_ deal with the creature.

Roy waited until the cabinet had fully sealed up again, watching until every last bit of the boggart had been obscured and there was no chance of it breaking free, to at last withdraw, turning his back on the cabinet, and his attention, back down to Ed.

His breath caught.

The kid had slipped down to his knees, collapsed on the floor and trembling hard all over again. He held himself and shook, the blood from the fake Al completely gone but his own still there, staining his hands and arms, the magical limb twisted and bent...

And by the look on his face, Ed currently couldn’t care less about any of his new physical scars. 

Carefully, Roy moved forward, trying to gauge just how present the kid was and how much he had really understood. Barely even looking, Roy scrawled a note to Hughes, telling him to get Al and get his ass down here, _now,_ but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Ed long enough to make sure the note was even legible. Whatever. Hughes would get the gist, at least, and Roy knew he didn’t have time for anything more than that as he, too, dropped to his knees on the cold stone floor, reaching a cautious hand towards the trembling boy. “Ed?”

Ed worked his mouth, trying to talk for several seconds, then just gave up with a shocked sort of whimper. He sank to the floor, the thankfully dry, no longer bloody floor, wordless and shaking. One badly trembling, broken hand lifted to half-point at the cabinet, and he finally managed to work out a single shocked moan of a question.

Shit. _Shit._

“Ed,” he said again, hurrying to his side. How on earth was he supposed to explain this with Ed as much of a mess as he was? “Ed, it’s okay.”

“Al...”

“Al’s coming,” he reassured. “Five minutes. Al’s coming.” 

“B-but- I-“ He gasped again, nearly choking with the force of his strained breaths. He stared at the spot where his brother had been as if he couldn’t bring himself to look away. “H-he was- _right there-“_

“No, he wasn’t. No. Al’s _completely fine,_ Ed, I promise.” He shifted subtly, trying to block Ed’s view of the subdued boggart’s cage, then reached out a cautious hand to wrap around Ed’s broken, magical one. At least that one, rather than his bruised, splinter-infested, bleeding flesh one, wouldn’t hurt. “Come on... Ed, come on, let me get you out of here, okay? Al’s coming, let’s wait for him outside-“

But Ed wasn’t listening to him.

He wasn’t even _looking_ at him. Just the space on the floor where he’d watched his brother die.

This was bad. This was really, really bad. “Ed,” he murmured again, moving even closer. “Ed, come on...” 

Ed just gasped again, gasped some sort of anguished approximation at his brother’s name, then went silent. He was shaking even worse now, like he’d been in shock before but the shock was starting to wear off now, and that shock was being overtaken by sheer horror. Roy once again grabbed him, stopping the frantic child from crawling back over to the site where the fake Al had died. “Listen. _Listen_ to me.” Roughly grabbing him by the shoulders, Roy forwent being gentle and just lifted him up, tugging him close to his chest and crushing him there. “Listen to me, Ed, _it wasn’t real._ You saw it change. You saw how it wasn’t Al.” He held Ed even closer, arms wrapped around him and trying to anchor him in what was present and real, doing everything he could to keep him with reality and not in the nightmare the boggart had tried to create. “You _saw_ it- you _saw_ it couldn’t have been him, Ed, remember? Al’s fine-“

Ed shoved hard, both his scratched flesh hand and broken magical one punching at his chest as he squirmed, fighting his arms to escape. “No-“ he croaked, a hoarse gasp, “no- n-no, he- Al-“

And suddenly, he’d lunged, throwing himself away from Roy and only barely being caught in time. He scrabbled on the floor, pushing at Roy with such sudden violence and vehemence the professor could barely hang on as the boy fought to escape. Dragging Ed more into his lap, Roy shifted around so Ed had no _choice_ but to look at him and pulled him into a tighter hug, listening to his panicked gasps with a sense of panic of his own. 

“Calm down,” he ordered, though it was ironic, because Roy himself only felt barely calmer than Ed right now. “Slow down, Ed, _breathe._ Listen to me. _Breathe.”_ He again pulled Ed closer, forcing him to listen to Roy’s own breaths and hopefully manage to follow their own rhythm himself, because right now he was gasping to the point that he was barely even breathing at all, each breath of air he managed to steal forced out just as quickly by his panic. 

“It’s okay, Ed,” he murmured, almost chanting it now, a senseless mantra. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll take care of you. Just breathe... come on, Ed, you can do it. I’ve got you. You’re okay...”

Ed seemed to be listening to him, at least, trying to get his breathing under control and grabbed onto him for dear life, and Roy sighed in relief. At least he was somewhat aware of what was going on, understanding of the fact that Al hadn’t actually just died in front of him even though it still surely _felt_ like he had. He could work with this. Ed was going to be okay, he just had to keep him trying to calm down like this until Hughes could get Al down here for himself.

There was something intensely saddening about the fact, Roy realized, looking down at the gasping form against him, that Ed’s greatest fear, even when he was still so young, was not just his brother dying- but his brother dying, and _blaming him_ for it. 

Finally, Roy felt the tremors begin to fade, the choked gasps easing into forced, deeper breaths and his shaking hands clenching tightly in his robes. Roy waited a few more moments, listening as the tense, shuddering child fell slowly back from the very edge of the cliff, then at last leaned back just enough to get a better look at him. “Are you okay, now?” he asked quietly, gently lifting a hand to rest against the side of his head.

Ed gulped, still trembling, and shook his head. “N-no,” he gasped, and did not even come close to withdrawing from Roy’s arms. He did, however, try and push Roy to the side so he could see again where the boggart had been. “W... what _was_ that?”

Roy sighed, wrapping his arms tighter around Ed again. What little of his bare skin that he touched felt cold, almost freezing, and he found himself rubbing vigorously along his shoulder to try and warm him up. “A magical creature. It takes the form of what you fear the most and shows it to you, in hopes you’ll be stricken enough to give it something to feed off of.” He paused, his hand slowing to rest against his hair again. “In all of the advanced reading you fill your time with, you really never did come across a _boggart,_ did you.”

Ed hiccuped out a frantic sob. “...no,” he said again, a tiny whimper, an almost moan, then ducked his head almost guiltily, pressing himself back against Roy. “...So, that was... it w-was...”

“Not real,” he finished gently. 

He lowered his hand, wrapping it carefully around Ed’s, and moved it to show it to him. The hand that had once been covered in blood and dripping-

And was now perfectly dry and untouched, save for the scratches and splinters that were marks only of Ed’s fight to get to the boggart.

Ed stared it. He looked back at Roy, then stared down at his trembling, unbloodied hands again.

Then he just ducked his face back against Roy and collapsed with another sob.

And it was on this scene of shocked devastation and mourning that Al finally reached them.

Roy looked up at the sound of the door first, still holding Ed as the stricken teen jumped and flinched at the noise. First he saw Hughes, obviously in a rush, panting and sweating with the near mad sprint he must’ve taken to make it here so quickly, his eyes narrowed as he took in the scene with concern and uncertainty- and then, next to him, was Al. Small hand lifted up and captured by Hughes’, he looked even more exhausted, surely gasping with the effort to have kept up with the professor’s strides, and, clearly already having been reassured that everything was okay, stared down at them in confusion rather than fear. 

“Roy!” Hughes gasped, then blinked, his sharp eyes flickering to the rag-tag repair job on the already trembling cabinet before back to Ed. “Roy, what’s-?”

“Brother?”

Ed, mid-hiccup through a sob against him, froze.

He jerked his head up.

Then, his tear-stained, fragile features crumpled, he tore himself away from Roy, and launched himself straight into a stunned Al’s waiting arms.

* * *

Ed wasn’t really sure how the rest of the day had gone.

He very vaguely remembered Mustang vanishing, though couldn’t recall if the professor had said where or why he was leaving. Just, one moment, he had been there, and then the next, he hadn’t been.

The horrible cabinet and the creature within had disappeared with him. Ed didn’t have to wonder just what Mustang had left to take care of after he’d noticed that.

Ed had been left to sit on the floor of his office, sandwiched in between Al and Hughes. Hughes hadn’t asked him for an explanation, but knowing him, had already picked up on most of what had happened, and had just sat next to him comfortingly, arm around his shoulders and speaking in low, warm tones and forcing chocolate on him until Ed had finally been able to stop shaking. He’d known somewhere in the back of his mind that Hughes surely had other places to be, like his _job_ , and probably was going to wind up in trouble for ditching to sit here with him like this- but to look at him, the professor hadn’t had any other cares in the world but him. 

And Ed had still been shaking too hard and felt too _horrified_ to tell him to go.

Al, for his part, had obviously been confused, and Ed just hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell him what had happened. He just _hadn’t._ It would’ve made Al worry so much more than he already did, and probably feel guilty or bad about it like it was his fault somehow, and he just... hadn’t been able to deal with that right then. Right now, Ed just wasn’t mentally capable of hearing his brother try to comfort him like that. 

He didn’t think he could handle the look in his eyes, either, when he was told his worst fear was Al...

Was Al...

_Dying._

_And it being my fault._

No. Right then, the only thing Al had been able to do for him was be there, and prove with every breath he wasn’t gone, and he had done it, with every second until Ed had managed to work up the strength to promise he was going to be okay.

He could never have asked Al for anything more. 

In the end, some time after Mustang had finally returned and, without a word, had joined them all on the floor, Hughes had ended up taking Al back to his dormitory. Mustang had offered to let them both sleep over with him tonight again, but, somehow, something about it just had unsettled Ed more than not. He didn’t want Al to see him like this. As much as he wanted to be with Al right now, he didn’t want Al to see him so shaken up- because he couldn’t deny it. He _was_ a shaken mess. And Al wasn’t supposed to see him like that. Al wasn’t supposed to take care of him, _damn it,_ this was the other way around-

And Ed just didn’t want Al to be there to see him probably break down. Because given the fucked up, terrified way he felt, that was almost definitely what was going to happen. 

Roy, with some help from Hughes, had taped up the scrapes and the one still bleeding gash on his flesh arm; he vaguely remembered hearing something about Roy being out of practice with healing spells, that they’d go down to the hospital wing tomorrow to get them really taken care of, them and his magical arm- but in the end, he hadn’t been able to care. Looking at his messily bandaged hand now still confused him more than not as it was as it was.

He didn’t even remember getting hurt… had just wanted to get to Al no matter what.

Ed swallowed tightly again, squeezing his eyes shut.

Hughes had agreed to take Al back, Al who was obviously just as shaken by everything as Ed had been, able to tell that something was _wrong_ and hating that he was being left in the dark. Ed promised himself he would tell Al everything as soon as he could handle saying it, but tonight...

No.

Tonight he just needed to be alone.

Tonight, he just needed to try and forget this had ever happened.

Al had hugged him fiercely before he’d left, and so had Hughes. Ed hadn’t been able to bring himself to respond much to Hughes, but had found himself biting his tongue to stop the exact opposite with Al; for a heartbeat, he’d actually _wanted_ to tackle him to the floor in the tightest hug he could manage and never let him go again.

Ed swallowed uncomfortably, tucking his face a little more into his knees. 

Somehow, even trying not to worry Al, all he’d really managed to do was unsettle him to point of being so upset it had taken Hughes three tries to gently dislodge him and get him over to the door.

There was a creak at the door to his room, and Ed shut his eyes, burying his head back down in time to stop himself from seeing it open and cast light into the darkness on his bed. “I told you to leave me alone,” he muttered sullenly, and hugged himself just a little tighter.

“Right,” Mustang sighed. “And I told you that wasn’t happening.” 

He heard the professor move steadily forward, then the heavy _thwump_ of the mattress as he dropped himself onto it, joining him at his side without so much as asking for permission first. 

Ed would’ve glared, or perhaps pushed him off, if he hadn’t already expected the bastard to refuse to leave him alone tonight.

“...Are you okay, Ed?” 

He grunted weakly. The second time Mustang had asked him that question today, and his answer was still the exact same as it had been hours ago. “No,” he said shakily back, and let himself drop so he could curl up on his side, away from Mustang. He shivered though it wasn’t cold and swallowed tightly, trying to hold himself close enough to stay in control, or at least manage to keep his voice steady. “W-why the hell did you have that... that _thing_ in the first place?”

Mustang sighed again. “This is why you don’t go snooping in people’s offices, Ed,” he told him, though his warm voice utterly lacked any real sort of rebuke or judgement, and he felt the man shift beside him, like he was getting more comfortable, like he wasn’t about to go anywhere ever again. As much as Ed _wanted_ to be annoyed by it, somehow, right now, he could only feel reassured- even if he also hated himself for feeling so weak. “I’ve been keeping that boggart for almost a month, taming and starving it. In truth, that’s probably why he was particularly aggressive with you. They normally don’t try and trick you into letting them out... he must’ve realized you were fresh meat, and I’ve been starving him too long for him to have resisted it.” He sighed a third time, and Ed felt him reach over to nudge his foot a little. “Thanks to you, I’m going to be purchasing another one. I won’t be letting that one loose at my students again; not now that he’s seen how much that can pay off.”

Ed jerked around, pulling himself just enough to stare at Mustang without sitting upright. “W- _what?”_ he managed, hoarse and exhausted but even then, shocked. The professor glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow, evidently confused, even in the dark, and Ed swallowed again, licking his dry lips and trying to infuse some sort of competence and strength into his voice even when he felt nothing but. “How could you- you’d use him against _us?!_ Y-you... what’s _wrong_ with you?! That’s awful!”

The idea of facing that monster in class... _everyone_ seeing it like- like _Al..._

And, god, what about everyone _else’s?_ He’d see their boggarts, too. Ed couldn’t help but shudder at the thought, his heart pounding. He could only imagine how many horrible things he’d have to see like that... how many others in the class would he have to stand there and just watch as their parents or siblings or best friends just- just _died-_

Ed shuddered again, swallowing back bile, and remained silent.

“Ed...” Once again, Mustang reached over to rest a hand on his foot, dark eyes unreadable and something about his pale face sad in the low light. “First of all, it wasn’t going to be against you. I use it with my third-years, and I do typically _warn_ the class beforehand. If a student wants to sit out or face the boggart privately, with just me, they can. We’re not sadists.” He broke off for a moment, still watching him in an unreadable way that almost made him uncomfortable. “But, even so, it’s not how you’re thinking of it. Most kids your age, they...” Mustang grimaced, making an uncomfortable face as he tried to find the words. “Hell, Ed. You know most kids your age aren’t afraid of anything like... that, right? Thirteen year olds usually treat me to an afternoon of powered down basilisks and schoolyard bullies. They’re really not afraid of something like death, because they can’t even conceive of the reality of something that horrible happening to them or the people they care about.” He paused, averting his eyes again even as he reached slowly over to rest a hand on his arm, this time seeming a little for his own comfort as well, and not just Ed’s. “A boggart against a group of children is usually safe, believe it or not. They’re imaginative, and their worst fear tends to be something ridiculous and imagined because of it. It’s a boggart against a group of adults that is…” He paused, face paling. “…horrifying. Yours is usually the sort of worst fear people don’t realize until they’re old enough to have faced pain like that themselves.”

His hands, still trembling off and on with the memory of how all that blood had felt, finally stopped shaking.

Slowly, Ed risked another look at Mustang. The professor wasn’t looking at him again, leaning back against the wall and face obscured by his hair and the lack of light, but the hand was still on him. Slowly again, Ed started to uncurl, just a little bit. Just enough so he could start to turn around and face Mustang without having to lift his head, cold fingers still clutching at the sheets. “...Most of the other students... it’s not like mine?” He shook his head, unable to imagine it. Why? Powered down basilisks, bullies, things like that? But it didn’t make any sense. How could they... how could _anyone_ have something like that as their worst fear?

Not when it was so much easier, possible, _real_ for the people they cared about to die. 

“No,” the professor said quietly. “They’re not like yours.”

Ed looked away again, something uncertain and uneasy growing inside him, then just uncurled completely to flop on his stomach, away from Mustang. He hid his head in his hands and took in a great, shuddering breath, trying _yet again_ and failing _yet again_ to stop the cold tremors from breaking through him head to toe and the nauseated, sickened fear from before strangling him again. It felt like another insurmountable wall was being built up between him and his classmates as they spoke. He’d never thought about it and realized how- how fundamentally _different_ they were from each other. Were he and Al really the only ones who thought like this? Sure, it wasn’t the kind of thing they’d ever talked about, yeah, but- he’d sort of just always imagined everyone else felt like he and Al did.

Were they really the only ones who did?

An intensely unhappy, almost lonely feeling swept over him again, and this time, it was barely helped by the steady hand of the professor sitting by his side. 

Then just behind it came shame, for the tenth damn time that day, and Ed flushed miserably again, pressing his face back into the bedspread. He only barely heard the startled, concerned start of a question behind him as he locked his arms over his head, squishing himself down just to try and hide. “I’m so _stupid,”_ he moaned, nearly choking on the thick words in his throat. “How- how could I have thought that was real?! I knew it wasn’t Al! I’d watched Al leave myself! It- it wasn’t even _possible_ it’d be him, but I just- I saw him and, and.... and p- _panicked,_ and... _I’m so stupid!_ ” 

Ed buried his head even deeper into his arms, gasping out a whimper of horrified self-disgust and loathing. How the hell could he have been so dumb? It was embarrassing, pathetic, humiliating! What the hell was _wrong_ with him?! He’d stood there, he’d watched Al walk straight out of the bastard’s office... then suddenly, some strange creature from within a locked cabinet in the DADA professor’s office of shitty magical creatures called to him with his voice, and that was enough to convince him? Hadn’t he seen enough at Hogwarts by now for him to have realized it couldn’t possibly have been Al? What the hell was wrong with him?! How had he just lost control like a baby so easily?

Mustang was going to laugh at him. Hughes wouldn’t, that wasn’t how Hughes worked, but he would still find it pathetic. Al wouldn’t laugh at him either; no, Al was worst of all, Al was going to look at him like he was a fragile child and try and coddle and take care of him and would feel bad for him in all the ways that he didn’t deserve. Everyone was going to find out how stupidly and easily he’d believed the boggart and, even _worse,_ how he’d done pretty much nothing but sit down and cry at the whole thing- _god. Pathetic!_ What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he run to get help? Or _anything_ other than just sit there and cry like an idiot! He was a boy; boys didn’t _cry._ He- he-

It was so _pathetic!_

Mustang sat quietly next to him, for one long moment not even saying anything at all. He just sat there, and Ed swallowed as hard as he could, trying to keep himself silent or at least stop rambling like an idiot. He bit his lip hard again, struggling in vain to stop shaking.

Finally, the professor spoke up again.

“You know, the first time I saw my boggart, I threw up. And I already knew that it wasn’t real.”

Ed blinked. 

Mustang slowly patted his shoulder again, the words unassuming and unashamed, and, after several moments, he hesitantly lifted his head up out of his arms to look back at him, blinking in the dark.

“...Really?”

Mustang, still not looking at him, nodded. “Yes.” 

Ed held still for a few more moments, slowly trying to absorb the impossibility of this. Mustang had... but- _Mustang?_ Professor bastard? All calm and cool and collected at everything- the same person who’d looked at that boggart as _Al_ and just immediately known what it was and kicked it back to the cabinet... he’d...

“Your boggart,” he said slowly, head ringing. Slowly, Ed started to gingerly push himself up a little more, curling back around himself as he lay propped up on his side rather than pressing his face into the mattress. “Yours was... was Hughes, and...”

_And us._

Mustang, oblivious to his thoughts, nodded. “Yes. Rather... recently, anyway.” He gave him a quietly amused look. “When I was your age, it probably would’ve been something childish like heights- I was terrified of them once, believe it or not. It didn’t turn into something that... disturbing, until...” He trailed off, and his expression grew almost hauntedly distant. “Until after the War.” 

Ed hesitated again, unsure of how to say it or ask him directly, but at the same time wanting to know. “...It turned into me and Al.”

Once again, Mustang nodded, still looking away from him. This time, he looked almost reluctant. “Yes,” he admitted quietly. “Another rather recent development.” 

Ed glanced away himself, staring down at his hands. If what Mustang had said was all true, then a boggart showed someone’s worst fear. It certainly had when it had faced _him,_ he remembered with an almost nauseated shiver. 

That meant professor bastard’s worst fear was something happening to him or Al.

“So,” Mustang coughed, hand still on his arm, “you really don’t have a leg to stand on, saying how you reacted was foolish, unless you want to call me even more foolish for doing the same, Ed. That’s exactly how boggarts work- taking you by surprise and terrifying you like that. Most people aren’t going to calmly take a step back and evaluate whether or not what they’re seeing is perfectly logical, not when what they see is something like _that_. Anyone who wants to judge you for that is an idiot.” 

Again, Ed paused. “...Are you... calling me an idiot?”

Mustang smirked, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “If you’re going to continue to insist on calling yourself pathetic, yes.”

A weak smile started to grow, definitely unbidden, because he was not _thanking_ the bastard for anything- but as shaken as he still was right now, he didn’t really have it in him to be argumentative. “You’re a jerk,” he mumbled weakly, then ducked his head back down to hide his smile. “Don’t call me pathetic in front of Al; he’ll beat you up.”

This time, the professor actually reached over to ruffle his hair teasingly, snorting out an irritatingly amused chuckle. “I’m afraid you’re a bit mistaken, my little Gryffindor- and you’ve still got a bit of Gryffindor in your heart, no matter what the hat said, so quit looking at me like that. _You’re_ the one who would beat me up for insulting Al, the way Gryffindors are want to do. If I insulted you, Al would just smile calmly at me and walk away, and the next day I’d find myself quietly hexed into oblivion by some newly invented curse he created himself.” 

Ed couldn’t help but snicker weakly, curling up under the blankets a little more. He was right. Al, though perfectly strong enough to do it, didn’t go around hitting people. No- he was too smart for that. Or, perhaps just not hot-headed enough. Ed, for his part, would gladly accept the moniker of being hot-headed, and with pride, too, if that was the worst he got from defending his brother.

Al was still the one who got the best revenge on people, though.

“That’s just why you don’t fuck with a Hufflepuff's brother,” he pointed out tiredly. Not to mention that if Al ever had to get revenge for his sake, Ed would help him, and whoever their unfortunate target was would wind up so badly messed up they wouldn’t even know what had hit them... but there wasn’t much point in saying it. Mustang already knew.

Indeed, the professor just nodded, still looking vaguely amused in the low light, and patted his shoulder again. “Quite.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Ed felt the professor’s gaze come to weigh heavily on him again. Ed ignored it, just staring tiredly away from him, head resting in the crook of his elbow now, his view of the room slowly blurring through exhausted blinks as the massive strain of the day finally began to catch up with him. He was so _tired._ Which was impossible, because just a few hours ago he’d felt so wired and shaken and anguished he’d almost believed he’d never sleep again- now, somehow, finally, he’d actually calmed down enough to maybe manage it. Something about just slowly talking it through with Mustang was comforting, the lack of any real judgments or expectations and just going through the disaster of the afternoon... it was helping him.

It was still intensely pathetic, and embarrassing, and horrible- but it was helping him.

“Is... is that boggart why would told us not to go snooping in your office?” he mumbled at length, almost quietly ashamed. Right, one of the worst parts of this- the fact that he had been _warned_ , and chosen to go poking his nose around anyway. He fucking deserved what he’d got.

To his surprise, however, Mustang gave a slightly vexed sigh, shaking his head, and frowned down at him. “Honestly, no. I don’t keep anything truly dangerous in my office, Ed- I’d never even thought of the boggart tricking you into letting him out.”

Ed frowned as well, starting to lift his head off his hands. “Then _why?”_

“Because I _do_ have things in there that I’d prefer to keep private. Personal things, Ed, that I don’t want anybody prying into without my permission. It’s that simple, Ed- I’m not hiding anything from you.” Mustang frowned at him again. “The same reason you wouldn’t take to it kindly if I started digging through all of your things on a whim.”

Ed stiffened. Suddenly, whether the professor had meant it or not, a quiet inkling of an accusation had wormed its way into his voice, and Ed abruptly found himself staring back down at the blankets, just eager to escape his quietly dark, silently judgmental eyes.

“...Sorry.” He fidgeted weakly, struggling to find the words through the knot of anxiety growing in his chest. “I... sorry.” His voice was even smaller that time, and he again cursed himself for finding so pathetic. “I just... wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything, like... like...”

God, how was he even supposed to explain it? It wasn’t that he _actually_ distrusted Mustang. Not really. Not anymore. He didn’t think he distrusted the bastard anymore, him or Hughes. But, when Mustang had warned him to stay out, some innately suspicious and paranoid part of him had woken right back up again. The protective part, the one that needed to know where Al was at all times and still looked back hesitantly whenever Mustang or Hughes was kind to them, instantly searching for the ulterior motive. The part that warned him that things weren’t just good, now- they were _too_ good. 

That he couldn’t trust Mustang because _no one_ had ever taken care of them before, not since their mother’s death, and so the fact that Mustang was trying to now only made it feel like that a betrayal was, at some point, coming.

And when Mustang had warned them not to go snooping, some small part of Ed had instantly felt drawn to that very action. 

It had warned him that the bastard was hiding something from them. That these years at Hogwarts were like everything else: just too good to be true. But, if he was careful and smart and acted now, he’d be able to at least keep Al safe. 

He couldn’t possibly say any of this to Mustang. Surely, if the bastard found out that after two whole years here, Ed _still_ couldn’t bring himself to completely trust any of them or stamp out that tiny primal part of him that demanded he run before it got bad, because it _always_ got bad- god. Mustang would just be sick of it. Be sick of _him._ Or- or even worse, of _Al-_

“You’re overthinking things again,” Mustang said quietly. With a strong nudge, the professor coaxed him into moving a little bit closer, then went on firmly, “Stop it.”

Ed swallowed tightly. “...Sorry,” he mumbled again, ducking his head back into the mattress.

Mustang sighed. “I didn’t say to apologize, I just said stop overthinking it.” Frowning slightly, Mustang pulled his legs up so he was fully sitting on the bed next to him and gave him another nudge, pushing the blankets a little more over him. “Just go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning, Ed.”

“You’re... you’re still here.” He swallowed again, trying to steady his voice, and shut his eyes just as if that might help him to hide. “I can’t just-“

“You can. It’s called closing your eyes and going to sleep, and then tomorrow morning, you’ll feel better, and you’ll see Al again. As for myself, my room is rather far away for this time of night, and if it’s all right with you, I think I’ll just stay here. Easier, that way.” Mustang shrugged, tucking an arm behind his head to lie back casually, as if there was nothing odd about this at all, then shot him one last final, reassuring look. “Go to sleep, Ed. You’ll be fine... I’ll stay.”

Ed hesitated again, tucking his face a little more into his arm. It wasn’t that he _wanted_ the professor to leave. No; at the moment the idea of being left alone in the almost pitch dark room was almost nauseating. Hell, he was grateful the bastard was insisting on sitting there right now; as much as Ed didn’t want to be alone, he never could’ve asked him to stay. But-

But wasn’t it still embarrassing? Wasn’t it still just humiliating? He wasn’t a little kid any more, after all, he wasn’t supposed to need his bastard professor babysitting him in the middle of the night to keep him safe from nightmares, he wasn’t supposed to _need_ any of this, he wasn’t even supposed to want it, and his face already felt a little hot just thinking about whatever Mustang had to think of him right now- god, Mustang had _stuff to do,_ he couldn’t just sit here all night with him-

“Edward Elric, stop overthinking things and close your eyes right now, or I swear I’ll give you a detention the second I see you nodding off in class tomorrow.”

The heat faded away, and crawling up in its place was a warm, fond frown. 

“I hate you so much,” he muttered into his arm, and closed his eyes.

Minutes later, the last thing he felt was the warm blanket being pulled just a little more over his shoulders- and the last thing he heard, or maybe it was him even just imagining it entirely, was a low, “Good night, my little Gryffindor.” 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [First Aid for the Foolish (and those who Confounded the Exam Board to Pass Charms)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762358) by [AVMabs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVMabs/pseuds/AVMabs)




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